


Two Pair

by leiascully



Series: Five Ways You Didn't Sleep With Gregory House [1]
Category: House M.D.
Genre: Multi
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2006-09-19
Updated: 2006-09-19
Packaged: 2017-10-03 05:35:42
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,419
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14754
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/leiascully/pseuds/leiascully
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"You know, Cuddy," he says, over your shoulder, "I'm pretty sure you lost a bet to me in college that means you owe me a threesome."</p>
            </blockquote>





	Two Pair

**Author's Note:**

> Timeline: pre-series  
> A/N: Many thanks to [**angiescully**](http://angiescully.livejournal.com/) for encouragement and [**julietcetera**](http://julietcetera.livejournal.com/) for betaing and everyone who writes or reads for SmutTuesday. Anyway, this is based on the five things meme that's going around and is suppose to be moments that I only wish they'd show.  
> Disclaimer: _House M.D._ and all related characters are property of Heel and Toe Films, Shore Z Productions and Bad Hat Harry Productions in association with NBC Universal Television Studio. I make no money from writing this and no infringement is intended.

You took a bath earlier with a glass of wine and a lot of bubbles, and now you're lying on the couch with your hair damp. Your robe has fallen open to show a little too much thigh and the curve of one breast, but no one else is home anyway. It is so decadent to be lying here, watching old movies on television, the leather of the couch warm and vaguely sexy under the back of your neck. You hear voices, his voice, and then the key rattling in the door, and you are not startled when she comes in after him. House and Cuddy, always a sort of a unit, always bickering. You are jealous that she has known him longer, that she can call him Greg and have it sound right but House sounds all wrong from your mouth. You know that if you ever leave, it will be her and James picking up the pieces of his broken heart. Not that you're planning to leave. It's just that the things you know startle you sometimes, and the way she looks at you when the men aren't around.

She has shrugged off her coat and it's clear she's staying for a while. They're still arguing, the almost good-natured way they always fight, with a lot of flirting thrown in. You sit up, trying halfheartedly to cover yourself, and he comes and wraps you up in his arms, kissing you between words. His coat is cold against all the parts of you that are warm and you shiver, kissing him back, trying to keep a sense of propriety but losing the way you always do with him. She has her arms crossed and a high flush on her cheeks. You are melting against him and you tuck your head against his shoulder and look at her as he kisses your ear. She is gorgeous, eyes snapping, snowflakes melting in her hair, and he is humming to you. You can feel the bulge against your hip through the wool of his coat and the denim of his jeans. It only confirms your theory that fighting for these two is like foreplay for the rest of the world, but you've learned to play along.

"You know, Cuddy," he says, over your shoulder, "I'm pretty sure you lost a bet to me in college that means you owe me a threesome."

"Did not," she says immediately, but starts to fidget. You are tingling all over suddenly, terrified and thrilled about the inevitable end of this conversation. She must be too. Greg would never forget a bet like that.

"Poker night your senior year. Lots of tequila. Limes aplenty. My straight flush over your two pair. Starting to come back to you?"

"That wasn't what I meant," she says, looking sideways and down at the carpet. "It was a joke, and I'm pretty sure you were cheating."

"Would I do a thing like that?" He pulls his face into an expression of outraged innocence.

"Yes," she says without hesitation. "Especially if it meant getting two women in bed with you."

"Okay, that does sound like me," he admits. "But you're the one who agreed to it, Cuddy. It's time to pay up, or I'll tell Wilson you're a coward and he'll nag you until you tell him why."

She purses her lips. "You wouldn't."

"Pretty sure that I would, and if you're planning my assassination right now, remember there are witnesses."

"Fine," she says, her anger spreading in bright spots across her cheekbones, but her eyes are starting to gleam with that low light of arousal. "You win. Now it's your two pair, apparently."

"That's the girl I knew in college," he says to her, his mouth close to your forehead and he brushes his lips across your brow. His fingers play a Bach minuet on the back of your hip. "Babe, you up for it?"

"Anything you can do, I can do better," you tell him, sliding your hand up the outside of his thigh where she can't see. Both of them look startled, eyebrows sliding up, and she sighs. He kisses you again and goes to her and undoes her top button and she lets him, though she's got that little quirk to her mouth that means he'll probably pay in clinic hours. You think, somehow, it will be worth it.

"You do remember how to work buttons?" he asks, and she has something on the tip of her tongue to say to him, but settles for narrowing her eyes. She begins to remove her shirt with an air of courage under fire and he comes back to you so that you can peel him out of his winter clothes. When you look back, she has stripped down to her lacy layers, and she takes your breath away being everything you're not: compact, curvy as hell, with eyes that are ice or ocean or sky depending on her mood, and the thick waves of her hair falling over her slim shoulders like she's some kind of sea nymph out of a Renaissance painting. You want to touch her to make sure she's real.

Greg does touch her, towing you over by your wrist, so that the three of you are one little knot of skin in the room, and he puts his hand over the bone of her shoulder and it is a beautiful thing, his skin over hers. It feels right the way it feels right when he touches you. You are quiet, savoring the strong curve of his back and the lines of the muscles of his arms and legs: he has always been the most heartbreaking thing you've ever seen when he's down to skin the way he almost is now. He dresses like he ought to be all bones and it's true he never eats enough for your taste, but there is so much strength in his lean frame that it's startling. He leans in to kiss her throat and snakes his arm around your waist at the same time, pulling you into them until you can feel her hip warm through the silk over your thigh. You brush your fingertips tentatively across the swell of her breast and she looks at you with her ocean eyes and Greg kissing her throat and this is such a dangerous thing but you want it so badly. She pulls the tie of your robe loose and runs a hand down your side, her little fingers chilly. Your nipples tighten and you bend a little and kiss her, pushing your hand through her hair until your fingers catch in her curls. She tastes tired and a little like chocolate, but her mouth is hot and open.

Desire blurs your vision and your sense of time: you are aware of skin, and two hot mouths, and far more fingers than you've been accustomed to, and the only way you can tell what you're touching is size and texture, because she is smooth and soft everywhere and he is rougher. When you regain your balance, you have his tongue between your thighs and you are gripping the headboard, balanced over him, and she is behind you, riding him with one palm flat against your back and the other hand grazing your breast. You are made of shards of pleasure, all sharp edges grating against each other and nothing has felt like this. It is unorthodox and it goes against everything you've ever thought was true or right, but you are fiercely glad to share this bed with her and you're wild in love with both of them and you almost shriek as you come and he runs a firm, comforting hand down your thigh as it trembles, and you know his other hand is on her somewhere but you have always had to share him with something. Better Lisa who knows him, a symbol for all that medicine he's wrapped up in, than someone illogical. She is quieter than you'd have suspected, though you ease down Greg's body and nuzzle at her breasts as Greg steadies her hips. She bites her lip when she comes and you watch her, astonished, her face all you can see through the rush of lust as Greg's fingers move in you and you tip over the edge again into blue and pink and pale.

She leaves afterwards even though you want her to stay, but she smiles and squeezes your hand before she goes.


End file.
